Hermione Granger and the Deathly Follows
by ThornedHuntress
Summary: Hermione Granger made a mistake, and now it's come back to haunt her. Perhaps a bit too literally.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, so, so much thanks to TycheSong for helping with the research, the muse-ness, and pretty much everything else with this story. Thanks also to eterna-romantica03 for helping to kickstart the muse. **

**Disclaimer: As always, I unfortunately own none of the Harry Potter Universe.**

* * *

The hood of her Unspeakable cloak was down about her shoulders, which was a department violation, but seeing as how it was only barely past three in the morning, Hermione doubted anyone would write her up for it. The only other Unspeakable working this late at this end of the building was old Ray, and he hardly noticed company in the daylight.

She wasn't quite sure how long Ray had been around, though considering he worked in the time room, she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know. The man did, however, have some very interesting theories based on books that had been rendered lost more than three hundred years ago.

Casting those thoughts away for another, slightly less important time, Hermione looked at her notes, and then gave a glancing frown at an open ancient runes book she had "borrowed" from the library at 12 Grimmauld Place, and then at the one from her personal collection that contained a detailed history of the Druids, among other things.

Everything she had ever read had insisted it wasn't possible, that people never returned from The Morrigan's Veil, that they were simply gone. But the runes glimmering in cool light only inches from her nose and a few lines in the brittle pages of her book said otherwise.

It had only been a theory at first, something sparked by a dim memory of a dark room and a horrible occasion ten years earlier. The idea had refused to vanish, however, despite its futility. It nagged at her every time she passed _that door_ on her way to work.

Which is how Hermione Granger, pride of the Department of Mysteries, Unspeakable Division, had found herself stealing her best friend's books and then sneaking into the Ministry of Magic without authorisation in order to study The Morrigan's Veil. Every door lead to _somewhere, _and doors were usually two-way portals when used properly. All she had to do was find the right key, and there wasn't any reason Sirius Black shouldn't be able to walk right back through again.

A few of the runes lining the seemingly harmless arch were worn by age, but after two hours of carefully consulting every book she could find, not to mention every note she had ever taken on the subject, Hermione thought she had finally figured it out. She leaned close, her nose only inches from the cold stone of the archway to double check one of the runes, and then, a loud clatter sounded in the hallway behind the closed door.

Hermione jumped, biting hard on her bottom lip to muffle a shriek and only just avoided brushing the grey veil with one hand. She gasped and snatched her hand back, unsure what would happen if she were to touch the Veil, but unwilling to find out.

As another noise sounded, this one seemingly closer—though one could never be certain in the Department of Mysteries—Hermione gathered her things, casting a lightening charm on her bag now stuffed with books before drawing the hood of her cloak up and hurrying quietly from the room in which Sirius Black had died.

* * *

When Hermione finally slipped back into her flat and shut the door firmly behind her, she let out a heavy sigh of relief. It had been quite some time since she had done any sneaking about, or at least sneaking about for something unrelated to her career as an Unspeakable. The noise from the hallway had ended up being only a maintenance wizard, but even she would have had a difficult time explaining her presence in the Veil Room had it been anyone important.

But fortunately, she hadn't been discovered, and so it was with a vague sense of victory with which Hermione sat down at her desk to pen a note to one of her oldest friends.

_Harry-_

_I need to meet with you this morning, it's important. I'll be by before breakfast._

_-HG_

She sealed the parchment and then tossed a pinch of Floo Powder into the flames dancing in her hearth, sending her note on its way to number 12 Grimmauld Place and praying Kreacher would actually deliver the thing rather than destroy it.

That final task completed, Hermione allowed the wave of fatigue she had been holding back to wash over her. She made her way into her bedroom, groaning as she realized she had less than three hours time for sleep left and accidentally awakening the rather disgruntled black kitten curled on her pillow.

"Sorry, Nimbus," she muttered as she shed her clothes and then fell into bed, asleep before her head reached the pillow.

* * *

Hermione's alarm went off far too early the next morning, the sun only barely beginning to peek through her window, tinting the whole sky red. She likely would have slept through it if not for her cat, who associated the alarm with breakfast and would dig needle-sharp claws into her legs until she received her morning meal.

This ritual, though horribly effective, was not one Hermione particularly enjoyed, as evidenced by the stream of muttered curses that left her lips as she jumped from her bed, nearly sending the small cat flying. In practically record time, Hermione had fed the little beast, showered, and slipped into her black, Ministry-issued robes, before gathering her bag full of research from the night before and Apparating on the spot to land on the stoop of number 12 Grimmauld Place.

The door swung open before she could even knock and she was greeted by the scowling face of Kreacher, who muttered something about rude messages in the middle of the night before walking away, leaving the door standing open behind him in what Hermione assumed was an invitation to enter.

"Harry?" she called out as she made her way through the familiarly gloomy entryway.

"Kitchen!" he answered, his voice echoing through the house. Hermione quickly made her way through the house and down the stairs, blinking rapidly as her eyes adjusted to the brighter, cheery light filling the kitchen.

"Good morning, Hermione," Ginny greeted from where she stood at the stove, frying eggs, her smile only slightly cool. It had taken some time for the Weasley women to warm back up to Hermione after her rather nasty divorce from Ron several years prior, but things were a bit more cordial now that Ron was expecting a baby with Lavender.

Hermione greeted the redhead woman in return before hugging Harry, who had stood up from his paper to say hello.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, a worried frown creasing his brow.

"Things are wonderful, actually," she replied matter-of-factly, gesturing for him to retake his seat and plunking her bag down with a heavy thud on the table. Harry's eyes widened nervously, that was an all too familiar sound from their time at Hogwarts, a sound usually immediately followed by a lengthy lecture.

The woman delved into the bag, searching for a moment before pulling out a sheaf of parchment and slapping it down in front of Harry with a triumphant smile. The man looked confused, while his wife seemed merely curious.

"Runes, Hermione?" he asked. "No offense, but…"

"The translations start on the fourth page," Hermione cut him off, gesturing impatiently. He flipped to the proper page and began to read, though the confusion never left his expression.

Finally he admitted, "Sorry 'Mione, but I don't get it."

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes, pulling the papers back toward her and reading aloud for Ginny's benefit.

"Here I stand, on the cusp of Darkest Night.  
Here I knock on the portal between worlds  
So command I, 'Open!'  
Come forth, spirit, reclaim your possession and life."

She paused for a moment, waiting for the excitement she herself had felt when she had discovered those words in the passage referenced by the Veil runes, but received nothing, and so continued,

"Place the glyphs of the Elder and the Yew to the north, for the path forward is through transition. Place the glyph of the Rowan to the south, to ward your back.  
Abjure me with Holly and a gift, that I might guide what you seek  
The Apple to the East, The Blackthorn to the west. "

When she finished, Hermione paused again in expectation, but the others simply stared blankly back at her until exasperation covered her face. "It's from the Veil!" she announced excitedly. When still no recognition showed on the pair's faces, Hermione picked up the papers and waved them inches from Harry's face.

"We can use them to bring Sirius back!" she finally clarified.

A loud gasp sounded from Ginny but Harry simply stared in disbelief at his best friend. "You said it couldn't be done," he finally said weakly.

Hermione scoffed, pointing out, "I am occasionally wrong, Harry." A snort sounded from Ginny's direction, but when Harry and Hermione glanced at her, she merely flushed red. It was then Hermione caught sight of the clock hanging over Ginny's head and shrieked.

"Harry, we're going to be late!" she exclaimed as she started to stuff papers back into her bag.

"But how are we going to—" he started only to be interrupted by Hermione again.

"Late!"

"How are we going to get Sirius back?" he called after her as she rushed for the door.

"After work!" She called back, already half way down the hallway, leaving the couple behind her, staring bemusedly.

"She'll explain after work, or she'll attempt to raise the dead after work?" Harry asked, giving Ginny an alarmed look.

"It's Hermione," his wife pointed out. "She'll probably explain at length _while _raising the dead, and then, just for fun, lecture you about not paying attention to a particular History of Magic lecture from fifteen years ago."

"Point." The forlorn mutter reached her just as the door slammed behind her, leaving her to roll her eyes in exasperation. She wasn't _that _bad.

Hermione crossed paths with Harry several times at the Ministry over the course of the day, each of which he tried to catch her attention and each of which she steadfastly ignored him. Breaking the rules in the middle of the night when no one was there to see was one thing; she wasn't about to continue the trend by discussing it with an _Auror_, of all people, in broad daylight. So she wasn't at all surprised when an irritated-looking Harry grabbed her by the elbow as she headed for the Apparition Chamber at the end of the day and dragged her in the opposite direction.

He had no sooner pulled the door to his office closed than he turned to Hermione and demanded, "Now will you please tell me exactly what you meant when you said you could bring Padfoot back, Hermione?"

"I already showed you the translation," she replied, already knowing the answer to her question but asking anyways, "What is there to explain?"

Harry blustered for a moment, and then took a deep breath, schooling his features into a semblance of calm. "Explain it to me like you would to Ron," he finally managed.

Hermione nodded and turned her attention to her bag with a small smile, muttering to herself, "We're going to be here all day at that rate," before producing her papers and turning back to Harry with her best "teacher" expression.

"Do you at least know about Samhain?" Harry nodded somewhat hesitantly and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"No you don't," she informed him.

"If you did, you would understand the Veil instructions. This first part here," she said, pointing to the first line, "makes it fairly clear that we'll be building a circle. It's old magic, nothing at all like what we were taught at Hogwarts, but it should work all the same. The rest, obviously, are just basic instructions."

Harry cast his friend an incredulous glance, muttering, "Obviously. Of course."

Hermione ignored him and continued, her excitement rising, "We'll need a number of things, I thought you might could get them since I'll be busy preparing." She shoved another slip of paper in his direction, lined with a list that likely wouldn't make sense to anyone but Hermione Granger.

"Oh," she cried, snatching the list back just as Harry reached for it and producing a quill seemingly from nowhere. "I can't believe I nearly forgot, we'll need something of Sirius's. Something he wore, preferably, but I know most of his things are gone, so hopefully anything will work."

When she had finished with that notation, she handed the paper back to Harry and said, "Owl me when you have everything. Oh, and Harry, this needs to be done tonight, it's Samhain. So hurry."

With that, she grabbed her things and slipped out the door and back into the flow of Ministry employees, leaving her friend before he could say another word.

* * *

Hermione checked her watch for the dozenth time before looking both ways down the dark street for any sign of the man who was supposed to have met her outside the Ministry exactly seven minutes ago. Three minutes later, he finally jogged up, hair dishevelled and slightly out of breath.

"You're late," she hissed, looking around the empty street to ensure no one had seen his somewhat suspicious arrival.

He shrugged with an apologetic grin. "Ginny was worried; I had to distract her somehow."

Hermione stared at the man for a moment and then the realisation of what he was implying dawned and she grimaced. "Did you at least remember the cloak?" she asked as she busied herself with her bag in an effort to erase the mental image of Harry and Ginny doing…that.

He nodded, pulling a densely folded square from his pocket and shaking the shimmering fabric free.

"Good," she said briskly "Now put it on before someone sees us and we both lose our jobs. Let's go!"

In a matter of minutes, the pair had made it through the Atrium, onto a lift, and down to the Department of Mysteries without any major mishaps, although a janitor had given her a rather concerned glance when she had seemingly run into thin air while in the middle of the Atrium.

When they finally reached the Veil Room, Harry tugged off his cloak and simply stared for a time. After a moment of quiet, he whispered, "It all looks so…peaceful."

"It really is," Hermione pointed out, "Sirius's case isn't exactly standard."

With that she began to busy herself with the preparations for one of the most complex spells she had ever attempted.

Finally, she had everything ready except for one ultimately important item.

"Did you bring something?" she asked Harry.

He nodded, producing a well-worn grey t-shirt and explaining, "I found it in his school trunk."

Hermione eyed the limp, holey garment with distaste and then shrugged. "As long as he wore it, I suppose."

The shirt was placed in the final spot of a carefully constructed circle, which Hermione then stepped into, warning Harry, "Whatever happens, don't make a sound. Oh, and please, for the love of Circe, _don't_ let anyone into the room."

With that, she raised her wand and began to cast the spell she had been practicing almost constantly for the past twenty-four hours.

" _Anseo seasamh mé, ar an cusp oíche is dorcha._

_Aqui eu cnag ar an tairseach idir saol_."

A loud crack sounded, and the entire room shuddered, but Hermione continued without pause.

"_Mar sin, ordú mé, 'Oscail!' Tar amach, biotáille, do sheilbh agus an saol a éileamh ar ais."_

As her last word echoed through the room, another crack sounded, followed by another, then another. Then a huge shudder rumbled, almost as if the ancient room were heaving a sigh, and Harry and Hermione watched in silent horror as, piece by heavy piece, the arch crumbled to the ground, carrying the Veil with it.

Neither of the pair moved, rooted by shock until the last of the thick dust settled. Then, Harry moved, striding across the room to where Hermione stood, not moving except to blink and breathe.

"Hermione," he urged, touching her arm. "Hermione, we have to go. Someone had to have heard that." Finally, her head turned to face him, her expression blank.

"What did I do?" she asked, her voice at an uneven tone between a whisper and a whimper. "I destroyed a piece of history. In the Ministry of Magic. I'm an Unspeakable. I'm going to lose my job. And poor Sirius…"

Her voice trailed off and Harry wrapped one hand around her forearm, having collected all the items she had laid out as she spoke and gently tugged her away from the circle and the pile of rubble and back through the Ministry.

She didn't say another word until they were again on the street, the cold wind whipping around their robes. Then, she murmured, "I'm sorry I couldn't bring him back, Harry."

He turned to face her with a forced smile. "Not to worry, 'Mione. We all decided years ago it couldn't be done. Are you okay to get home?"

She nodded and he clasped her in a quick hug before stepping back, saying, "See you on Monday then, 'Mione," and Disapparating with a pop that was too loud in the silence.

Unwilling to return to her flat with only her cat and the quiet for company quite yet, Hermione shed her robes, transfigured her cloak into a coat, and set off down the street. By the time she made it home, having walked all the way from the Ministry to her flat and having braved the throngs of people in ridiculous costumes out celebrating Halloween, she was too tired to think and fell asleep completely unaware of the change she had wrought in the world that night.

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello dearies, sorry for the terribly long time for an update. My soul is currently being consumed by NaNoWriMo (wish me luck!) so things have been crazy on this end. But for now, here's a chapter. Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: As always, I don't own the HP universe.**

* * *

He woke with a start, his dark eyes roving and absorbing his surroundings, memories of his dreams fading quickly. He quickly took in the familiar space, the dim light filtering through the window, the layer of dust coating every surface. No doubt this was another of his brother's pranks; he had always hated a dirty room. Wary of more to come he reached for his wand, but did not find it in its customary space on his side table.

"Bloody hell," he muttered as sat up on the edge of the bed, his feet reaching unconsciously for the slippers that he kept on the floor there and finding nothing but more dust. His nose wrinkled in distaste and he stood, walking to the door before pausing and listening carefully for any sign of his family moving about below.

When no sound came, his frown deepened. There was always noise in the Black household, even if it were only house-elves shuffling about. Something wasn't right. Disregarding the fact that he was barefoot and still in his nightclothes, a fact that would surely appall his mother, he hurried down the stairs, stopping to look in several rooms but still seeing no sign of life.

It wasn't until he reached the ground floor that he found any hint that the house was occupied, when he heard laughter echoing up from beneath his feet. His brow furrowed. The only floor left was the basement, occupied entirely by the kitchen and its massive dining table. Only house elves would be there this time of the day, and he had never once heard them laugh.

Wishing desperately that his asshole of a brother hadn't taken his wand along with ruining his room, the man grabbed the heaviest thing he could find, which happened to be a lamp, and made for the stairs. The light reached him before he was even halfway down the staircase, and the voices and laughter continued to grow louder.

He finally reached the bottom of the steps, only to be greeted by a completely unexpected sight. There wasn't a house-elf to be seen, instead, only two people, a man with dark, messy hair and a beautiful redhead woman, who sat at a table in the middle of the room, eating dinner. He scowled. He didn't know who these intruders were, but they were by no means going to sit there enjoying _his_ food, after doing something with _his _family, in _his_ home!

He tightened his grip on the lamp he held and gently nudged the door open the rest of the way, thanking the gods when it didn't squeak. Carefully placing one bare foot in front of another, he was nearly halfway across the kitchen when disaster stuck, in the form of a loose tile against which he rather violently stubbed his toe.

As was only natural when one's bare toe met a sharp edge, he let out a rather loud, rather vile curse. The next instant, both strangers were on their feet, wands pointed in his direction. The last word he heard was an echoing "Stupefy!".

* * *

When he finally came to, it was to meet a matched pair of angry gazes, one brilliant green and the other doe-eyed brown. He tried to jump to his feet, only to discover his hands were bound behind him. He snarled, demanding, "Let me go!"

The man standing in front of him raised one brow and shook his head, replying, "No, I don't believe I will. I don't know how you got in here, or were even able to find this house, but I assure you that I am just as capable of destroying a dark wizard now as I was in school."

"More, actually, since now he's formally trained through the Auror program as well," the redhead added helpfully.

"And I do not take threats in my own home well!" the dark haired man continued with a growl.

"It's this thing he has about family."

"Ginny, please go upstairs and call MacGregor, tell him to send a team," the man instructed, never looking away from where he sat in the chair.

The girl glanced worriedly at the man he assumed was her husband, and then hurried away up the stairs, leaving just the two men alone in the room.

"I really wish you Death Eater has-beens would leave us the fuck alone," the man spat. "Who are you working with?"

"Working with?" he sputtered, struggling again against his bonds, "Now see, here—!"

"Don't even try to lie! You couldn't have gotten in without help. There's quite a bit more than a shielding spell around this house, as I'm sure you know."

At that moment, something in the man's expression triggered something in his mind, a vague memory of one of his brother's friends from school. But what would James Potter be doing in his kitchen, _without_ his brother no less? And that woman—James had dated a redhead in school, Lilac, or another ridiculously flowery name, he thought, —but he was nearly certain the woman now upstairs had been called Ginny.

Realizing the man towering over him was still talking, he focused again just in time to hear, "Who the _hell_are you?"

He sneered, derision in his tone as he replied, "I, _sir_, am Regulus Arcturus Black. Who exactly do you think you are?" Instead of replying, the man stood silent, a stunned expression covering his face as he stared.

And then he heard the woman murmur quietly from behind his chair, "Harry, I think you need to call Hermione."

* * *

Hermione flew into the Potter household, ignoring social niceties such as knocking in favor of reaching her friends. Harry's note had been alarmingly brief, reading only,

_Emergency at Grimmauld. Come now. –H_

Her mind had begun to race, immediately conjuring up images of all sorts of terrible things that may have happened, and by the time she reached the door of number twelve Grimmauld Place, she was quite convinced she was going to find at least one of her friends dead.

So when she ran down the steps and into the kitchen, it was with a great measure of surprise and a scowl that she greeted the sight of Harry and Ginny standing in the middle of the room, both watching a strange man sitting in a chair pulled away from the table.

"Harry," she gasped, slightly out of breath from her mad dash, "what's wrong? I was expecting…I don't know…blood!"

Harry slowly shook his head, his eyes never leaving the other man. "Hermione Granger," he said, his voice low and tight, "I'd like to introduce you to Mr. Regulus Arcturus Black."

Hermione inhaled sharply, her daze darting from Harry to the man in the chair, noting for the first time his hands were bound, and then back to Harry. "But he's dead!" she blurted. "You're dead!" she nearly shrieked at the other man.

An affronted look crossed his face. "I most certainly am not!" he protested. "I am the—" he stopped midsentence, his mouth snapping shut and a stunned look shuttered his dark eyes. "No, that was just a dream," he whispered in disbelief, more to himself than to anyone else in the room.

The only one near enough to hear his words was Hermione, who cast him a questioning glance before suggesting to Harry, "You should probably untie him, you know."

"No," her friend insisted stubbornly, "he has to be lying. Regulus is dead, we all know that. It has to be some sort of sick disguise."

Hermione turned her gaze pensively on the man, who seemed to no longer be paying attention to the goings on of the room, instead his eyes darted back and forth as if he were watching a film. "You know," she finally said slowly, "there is one way to determine if he's really who he says he is."

Harry nodded and raised his wand determinedly, only to receive a nasty scowl from Hermione as she batted his hand down. "Don't be dense, Harry," she muttered before walking to the bottom of the stairs and yelling, "Kreacher!"

The man in the chair's head snapped up at the name, but the others were too busy watching the stairs to notice. When the elf didn't appear, and showed no signs of doing so, Hermione rolled her eyes with a frustrated sigh and turned to Harry, raising one expectant brow.

"What?" he asked, clearly confused.

His wife scoffed, giving Hermione a commiserating glance before yelling, "Kreacher! Now!"

"Please!" Hermione added. With a pop, the elf appeared in the room, grumbling something under his breath as he faced his mistress, who simply pointed behind him. The elf turned with his customary scowl and then Hermione saw something she wasn't at all expecting.

The house-elf's face crumpled and great, fat tear rolled down his face as he stumbled closer to the man in the chair. "Master Regulus?" he blubbered, just as the man cried, "Kreacher!" The trio still standing shared a series of stunned, disbelieving looks.

This was clearly a moment too long to keep their attention from the odd pair in the middle of the room, because the next thing anybody knew, Kreacher was flying at Harry, his small fists pounding as he shrieked, "What have you done to Master Regulus? You're a bad man! You let master go!"

"Kreacher!" Harry bellowed, slinging the elf away from his body and grabbing a tight hold of his arm so he couldn't continue his abuse.

"Let him go," Regulus snarled, speaking up for the first time since Hermione had declared him dead.

The room fell silent, the only noise Kreacher's harsh, panting breath, everyone staring at Regulus, though no two expressions were the same. It was Harry who broke the silence a few seconds later, his grip on an angry-looking Kreacher still tight. "The little bugger attacked me!" he protested.

He looked as if he were going to continue his defense, but Hermione interrupted, her voice quiet and her eyes trained intently on the man tied to the chair instead of the elf. "Let him go, Harry."

"But—"

"Harry, please." He scowled and released the elf, who shuffled quickly backwards with a glowering expression until he again stood near Regulus. Hermione moved too, drawing nearer to where Regulus sat and beginning to inspect his bonds.

"What in Merlin's name are you doing?" Ginny snapped, breaking her observant quiet.

"Letting him go too," Hermione flashed as she pulled her wand from the pockets of her robe. "I'm assuming at least one of you took his wand?"

"Didn't have one," Harry supplied.

"Well then what is he going to do to three very well equipped people with wands?" When neither of her friends had an answer, she murmured the countercharm and the ropes vanished.

Regulus let out an inner sigh of relief as he felt the tight ropes around his wrists slacken. He stood quickly, before the witch could change her mind and turned to face her, sketching a small bow as he did so. "Thank you…Miss...Hermione?"

"Miss Granger," she corrected quickly, taking a few short steps back and turning back to her friends. "You might as well sit back down; I think we're going to be here quite awhile, I'm sure you have questions."

* * *

An owl landed on her windowsill, pecking insistently at the glass until the woman sitting at her desk stood with an impatient sigh and let him in. This was no fewer than the fifth owl she had received from the Potters since she had left their home twenty-four hours earlier, the stack of notes was starting to accumulate on her desk amidst the piles of her research.

She had spent hours at Grimmauld Place the day before, answering Regulus' myriad of questions as patiently as she could while at the same time trying to keep Harry from hexing him every time Sirius' name was raised and Ginny from calling the Ministry.

She was beginning to think that leaving Regulus in the one place he was guaranteed to recognize hadn't been the wisest of ideas, since she was finding it rather impossible to discover why exactly the man was back from the dead when she kept receiving complaints of one sort or another. And since there was very little doubt in her mind that all this was the result of her Samhain machinations, she was rather anxious to complete her research.

With a frown she split the seal on the note, one brow rising in surprise at the unexpected smooth curve of the script, nothing at all like Harry's spiky, cramped handwriting.

_Miss Granger-_

The note read,

_I'm terribly sorry to bother you, I understand you must be terribly busy sorting this business, but I'm afraid I must ask a favor. To be frank, Mr. Potter and I…cannot seem to get along. I realize he is your friend, but if it's possible, I would like to ask that somewhere else be found for my accommodations for the duration of your research, since I am apparently a man returned from the dead. Mr. Potter suggested Azkaban, but that seems less than ideal, and, as you've struck me as an intelligent woman, I thought I would ask your opinion of the matter._

_Regards,_

_Regulus A. Black_

Hermione rolled her eyes. The only surprise this note contained was that it was from Regulus and not Harry demanding the other man be thrown out. Well, they were just having to get over it and act like men for a few days, and hopefully they would both be alive at the end.

She had just added the latest note to her pile and again picked up her book when a loud knock echoed from her front door. She slammed the book shut with a growl and then flipping it back open to make sure she hadn't damaged the delicate pages before standing and going to answer the insistent knock.

She unbarred the door and swung it open, fully prepared to shoo away a salesman who was no doubt selling exotic soaps and was instead confronted by two tall, dark-haired men wearing identical glowering expressions.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, stepping back to allow the men into the flat.

They came in, but went no further than the entryway before Harry stopped to explain his presence. "I want him out of the house 'Mione. He's rude, disrespectful, and I don't want a death eater anywhere near my wife!"

Hermione remained quiet through his explanation and then asked, "Well then why bring him here? There are a number of decent inns nearby, I'm sure the Leaky has a few rooms open."

Harry shook his head stubbornly. "He needs to be with someone who can watch him, wouldn't want him running off to meet up with his old pals. And Ron doesn't want him around Lavender, what with the baby," a flash of guilt covered his face as he realized who he was talking to but he continued, " so it's going to have to be you until we figure out what to do with him."

"He's not a misbehaving pet," Hermione muttered under her breath before, louder, "Fine. Mr. Black, you can put your things in the living room."

"I hardly think this is—" Regulus started, but Hermione interrupted.

"He'll try to put you in Azkaban next. The living room is that way."

Once Regulus was out of earshot, Harry expressed his thanks, warned her to be careful, and took his leave. He was just about to shut the door behind him when Hermione called after him, "Oh, and Harry? I'll be sure to let Ginny know that you think I'm more capable on my own than she."

A nervous look flashed across his face and she smirked as the door snicked shut. A dull bump sounded from the room next door, suddenly bringing her attention back to her unexpected house guest.

She walked into her living room to find Regulus standing in the middle of the room, his one, rather small case at his side and a somewhat helpless look on his face. Hermione couldn't help but feel a vague pang of compassion for the man. She could only imagine what was going through his mind, having woken to discover his entire family dead and the world changed nearly beyond recognition.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably; it had been quite some time since anyone other than her closest friends had been in her home. "Umm… please, sit. Can I get you anything? Tea? Pumpkin juice?" Regulus shook his head silently and sat gingerly on the edge of her sofa.

"I'm sorry about—"

"Miss Granger, I didn't mean for—"

They each started speaking at the same moment and Regulus flushed lightly, insisting, "Please, continue."

"No, no, go ahead."

He hesitated for a moment and then finished his earlier comment, "Miss Granger, I didn't mean for you to have to host me when I sent that note. I can leave, as soon as I can find somewhere to stay. My cousin Narcissa, she married a very powerful man, surely I could stay with them?"

"No!" Hermione snapped, and then more calmly, "No, I'm afraid the Malfoys have become… somewhat indisposed since the War. That won't be possible. So you'll be staying with me. I'm sorry; I know it's not ideal."

He shifted uncomfortably, but nodded, and the pair again fell into an awkward silence. Hermione's eyes wandered over his profile as he observed the room, taking in his dark, thick hair, pale skin, and his sharp, handsome features. His was not a face of an eighteen year old boy, if Hermione had to guess she would have put his age close to thirty.

In fact, the man likely could have been mistaken for Sirius if not for the almost haunting difference in their eyes. Where Sirius's had been a light gray, always full of life and a gleam of happy devilry, Regulus' were dark, nearly black, shuttered against the world as if he trusted no one, although Hermione couldn't blame him if that were true.

Her eyes continued to wander, a small frown overcoming her face as she took in his too-tight shirt and his ankles peeking from beneath the hem of his pants. "Are those Harry's old clothes?" Hermione asked incredulously.

Regulus' eyes snapped back to meet hers and his pale skin turned ruddy. "My room was empty," he mumbled. "He said they were all he had."

A look of outrage flashed across Hermione's face. "He's an ass," she snapped in reply. "Get up; we're going to get you new clothes, exactly what should have been done yesterday!"

* * *

Regulus watched with surprised regard as the petite woman leapt from the couch, muttering viciously under her breath and storming to where her cloak and bag hung by the door. She looked back and when she realized he had yet to move exclaimed, "You have to come with me! Let's go."

He stood slowly and walked toward her, wondering when the seemingly intelligent witch would recognize the flaw in her plan.

He was only midway across the room before she cried, "Wait! Oh I'm so stupid. You're dead; you can't be seen out looking like that. Well, looking like you, I mean, you look fine."

She flushed slightly, a trait he found oddly charming, and then continued with a decisive nod after studying him for a short moment. "A glamour spell will have to do then, come here."

He neared and she produced her wand, murmuring a series of quick charms with impressive ability. He felt his hair shorten, and his nose lengthen, and before he could think better of it, quipped, "Merlin, I probably look like Nymphadora."

Hermione let out a quick bark of laughter, the first he had heard from her, and she looked nearly as surprised as he felt. "We should go," Hermione hurried, turning away and opening the door, stepping out into the cool, brisk air.

* * *

**A/N: Hope you all enjoyed, don't forget to review!**


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